


But The Point Is Probably Moot

by thelilacfield



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 07:09:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7835029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelilacfield/pseuds/thelilacfield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Falling in love for the first time is always a rollercoaster. It's even worse when you fall for someone who's already in a relationship. Particularly when that relationship is with Captain America himself. Because that's what's going on here, right? The little glances and touches and pointed talking about love don't mean anything. Right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	But The Point Is Probably Moot

**A/N:** This has been in the works for a while, inspired largely by Steve and Wanda's relationship in  _Civil War_ \- though this fic grew from a not quite canon version of  _Age of Ultron_  because I couldn't resist changing things up a little. It got away from me by about 10K, and I hope this lovely fandom enjoys it! Title from  _Jessie's Girl_ by Rick Springfield.

* * *

 

Deep in the maze of the quinjet is a small room, just beyond the medical suites crammed with those civilians rescued from Sokovia, with the sound-proofing and soothing light necessary for the eight people currently occupying the place. Streaked with dust and dirt, shoulders stooped, heads bowed. Watching from the darkest corner, Vision examines the dynamics between the quiet circle of people, the connections between the group of heroes. No one speaks - all the words that are necessary pass in glances, Dr. Banner to Thor, Captain Rogers to Mr. Stark, Agent Barton to Agent Romanoff. The latter two occupy each other's space, the way they look at each other worthy of a word that perhaps does not exist in any language, Barton's hair matted with blood, his hands awash with red, and Romanoff's left sleeve torn half off, her eyes betraying the imprisonment which she was put through, and he cradles her hand between his and leans forward to kiss her, careful and reverent.

The door slides open, and Colonel Rhodes enters, suit discarded, seemingly unharmed but for a small scratch over his right eye. "Agent Hill wants me to tell you all that they've made contact with a few centres for the Sokovians, and we'll be stopping to refuel and escort them to the refuges before we head back to the States," he says, Stark and Rogers maintaining a steady gaze on him. "Fury wants a debriefing ASAP. With everyone."

"He'll have to wait a little longer," Romanoff snaps, pushing a hand through her hair, flecked with dust, and Rhodes gives the slightest smile and nod before he leaves again.

Barton holds her hand tighter, and she sighs long and low, leaning on him and drawing her knees beneath her, becoming smaller and quieter. Banner is hunched up like that too, a bright orange shock blanket wound tightly around him, shivering in a way that is subtle but obvious once it's noticed. Rogers and Stark both sit with tightly clenched jaws, Rogers' hands clasped in his lap and the shield leaning against his chair, Stark holding a cloth to the shallow length of a wound on his arm. Barton puts an arm around Romanoff, and she doesn't shift or protest, and he holds her against him. Thor has laid his hammer down, armour smeared with dirt, and stares at the walls, obviously deep in thought. Maximoff is the worst - more grey than any other colour, swamped by the shock blanket the medical staff gave her, silent and staring, tears streaking silvery down her cheeks and eyes swollen red.

Rogers stands and says, "I'll go and talk to Fury, tell him what I can. Stark, Thor, come with me?" Though it's phrased as a question, his eyes make it an order, and both men stand and follow him, leaving the rest of the team shifting in their seats, silently wincing when injuries are aggravated. Barton and Romanoff sit with their foreheads pressed together, and though his lips move the words are so quiet they're inaudible. Vision imagines that they're words of love, soothing and sweet, between the two people whose connection is obviously indescribably deep.

Rogers, Stark and Thor don't return until the helicarrier is landing, Stark and Rogers back in civilian clothes, Thor holding a tray loaded with gently steaming mugs. "The new kid made a mug of every hot drink he could find in Hill's stash," Stark says. "Take your pick. We've got a long journey ahead of us."

Thor offers the drinks around, trembling fingers wrapped around the mugs and small smiles given to him in thanks. The bustle of the helicarrier landing seems worlds away, the small group of people left to themselves, the minutes passing in silence. Finally, Rogers stands, addressing the team with authority in his stance. "We've had a very long and difficult day. You all need to sleep. We'll be here for at least a few hours and it's a long journey back to Manhattan."

"Sir, yes sir," Barton says with a glint in his eye, and Rogers shakes his head, a slight smile quirking the corners of his mouth. The group disperses, Barton and Romanoff's hands tightly linked, Banner barefoot and shaken, Thor's eyebrows lowered in thought as his heavy footfalls fade away, and still Vision waits in the corner of the room, watching a look pass between Rogers and Stark, a narrowing of Rogers' eyes and a tilt of Stark's head, and Rogers crossing the room to kneel before Maximoff, her eyes faraway.

"Agent Hill has a room waiting for you," he says, the commanding officer seemingly faded from his persona, leaving behind someone compassionate. "Can I show you to it?" She looks at him for a moment, something Vision can't understand in their gaze, and her hand emerges from the folds of the blanket to take Rogers'. He helps her to her feet, the blanket falling around her like a cape, and they leave the room together.

"You heard the Captain!" Stark says, his tone bracing and full of bluster, and nods to Vision. "Better head out and get some sleep."

"I do not believe I need to sleep, Mr. Stark," Vision says, and Stark's face twists in momentary confusion before he appears to settle.

"Fury probably wants help," he says, a tension in his jaw and a guard dropping down over his eyes. "Lot of people needing an escort and a lot of authorities to contact. And please don't call me Mr. Stark. Tony is fine. First names are fine for everyone." He leaves the room, and Vision finally follows, the noise beyond the heavy doors echoing in the depths of the helicarrier.

Before following Stark's directions towards the offices of the commanders of SHIELD, he looks after the people who should now be considered his team, some limping from injuries, disappearing into rooms where they can have the quiet and calm that he understands they need to recover from the day's events. Rogers stands protectively close to Maximoff, almost a shadow, and Vision can see that she's shaking with the force of her audible sobs, and Rogers puts an arm around her shoulders and shepherds her into an empty room.

Vision turns his back on the corridor as the last door snaps softly shut, focusing on the path to the offices and the orders that Director Fury will give him in sharp demanding words, reviewing footage already circulating news networks and assisting Agent Hill as she marches back and forth across the helicarrier, shouting orders both at the people around her and into her earpiece. Of course he doesn't think about the young woman he pulled from a falling train, grieving in Captain Rogers' company.

* * *

At first glance the window of Stark Tower appear flawless, gleaming in the weak sunlight of the dawn. But when examined more closely, the chips and cracks show up, where they were mended after the beginning of the Ultron crisis, while the Avengers moved back and forth across the world in an effort to end what they began. Vision thinks that most of the people now surrounding him in the over-crowded tower are the same - they appear mostly mended now, back to following orders and controlling the media attention, but when silence falls there's a hollowness to their eyes and a hopelessness to their expressions.

Stark and Rogers appear to have mended themselves the quickest, Stark answering the rabid calls of reporters, manning every phone and giving clipped quotes to those publications he knows are trustworthy, and Rogers watching over the well-being of the team. Romanoff and Barton appear to have returned to themselves too, leaving the tower for the smaller base of the newly-resurrected SHIELD, returning with arms full of files and disappearing for hours at a time with Rogers, never letting anyone else know what they speak of. Thor disappears from the tower, citing a need to visit old friends and a girlfriend in England, and communicates via an email each day. Rhodes has returned to his military responsibilities, but stays in close contact and often joins them in the evenings, filled with stories and good humour. Banner still moves like a shadow, hidden in his oversized clothes, quiet and only speaking when spoken to.

Vision lingers at the edges of the group, noticing smaller gestures between people that seem to speak of the years they've spent connected. Rogers remembers exactly how Romanoff likes her coffee and has it waiting for her every morning. Barton knows how to break Rogers out of his leadership and make him laugh and relax with nothing more than a simple word. Stark offers Banner free run of the shared laboratory for an evening, takes his food on trays on the days he stays hidden and makes sure he's included in conversations when he joins them for meals. Rogers picks up a phone on a day when his eyes are brooding and he walks stiffly, and a few hours later another man is at their door, holding a pizza box in one hand and embracing Rogers with the other.

Where does he fit into this puzzle, a tangled web of people whose hearts have chosen each other? Barton and Romanoff have chosen each other as romantic partners, but the rest have a connection that cannot merely be dismissed as friendship - it is familial, the way they care for each other, allowing space when necessary but remaining strong when someone needs it. Maximoff seems to have been adopted into their ilk, Barton making her mugs of hot chocolate while the television plays endless episodes of sitcoms and Rogers watching over her as the days since Sokovia mount up and a little of the life she showed in those brief hours before the fight seems to return to her. But he does not seem to fit in - he is without purpose now, with Ultron gone from the world and the Avengers taking a leave of absence in the aftermath.

It has been thirty-eight days since the destruction of Sokovia when he circles through the tower for the fourth time in a night, the numerous clocks decorating the walls telling him it's still too early for the team to begin awaking, still familiarising himself with corridors and rooms which are at once utterly known and entirely new, and happens upon what would seem at first glance to be a pile of blankets curled at one end of the couch in one of the communal areas. Quiet sobs splinter the air with the weight of grief, and he pauses. The warm glow of the lamp he reaches for illuminates the young woman who sits slumped over the arm of the couch, her shoulders heaving with the force of her tears, and he cautiously murmurs, "Miss Maximoff?"

She looks up, her cheeks wet and silvered in the lamplight, her eyes swollen and her skin blotchy, and she appears to shrink, a flush of red spilling over her cheeks. "I thought everyone was asleep," she says quietly, curling her feet tighter beneath her and clutching at the corners of her blanket, wound around her tight as a cocoon. "I waited until even Stark had left his labs."

"I do not sleep," he says, the same words he has spoken to almost every person he now lives in this tower with, the reactions varied from wide eyes to guttural shocked sounds. "I did not mean to disturb you. Would you like me to leave, Miss Maximoff?"

"It's perfectly fine to call me Wanda," she says softly, and then pulls her blanket towards her side, uncovering one cushion of the couch. "Stay. Perhaps I could use the company." He sits next to her, watching her straightening her position and the blanket sliding from her shoulders, revealing the pinstriped shirt that bunches up around her slender form. She must notice him staring, because she twists one of the tiny black buttons and provides an answer to a question he didn't ask. "It's Steve's. I don't have anything of my own until Natasha has free time to take me shopping with the shiny Stark credit card."

"You are close to him," Vision says, hoping that he is able to sound casual and speak with the kind of ease of companionship even though his curiosity is piqued and a strange heat twists in his chest at the knowledge that Wanda sleeps in Rogers' clothes. "He seems a good leader."

"He has gone out of his way to be kind to me," she says, a slight smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Ensuring I have a home here, giving me the space and time to process what happened, taking care of me even though I am the newest Avenger." She glances sideways to meet his eyes, and asks, "Has he not been so kind to you?"

"He has been occupied with the others," Vision says, keeping his words careful, not wanting to offend her by seeming to insult Rogers. "Dr. Banner has been consistently withdrawn. He has been busy since we returned from Sokovia."

"Bruce is in a bad way," she admits softly, twisting the tassels on the blanket between her fingers. Her nails are painted black, chipped at the edges, a startling contrast against the overlapping colours of the blanket. "He wants to retire from SHIELD completely. Natasha and Steve are trying to persuade him to stay on, since Tony is retiring into a consultant position and they could use someone with Bruce's powers. But it is understandable that he wishes to leave."

"And you will remain on the team?" he asks her, and her gaze flickers to him, something guarded and nervous within them. He can't help noticing that she looks infinitely younger at this time of night, eyelashes damp and spiky with lingering tears and the shadows beneath her eyes unhidden.

"I have nowhere else to go," she says after a measure of silence, drawing her knees to her chest and resting her chin there, most of her body hidden beneath the blanket. "Sokovia was destroyed. My brother is dead. The offer is there - it would be ridiculous to turn my back on my best chance at a new beginning." Her hand lands on his, her skin pale against his own, and she asks, "And you? Will you stay an Avenger?"

"I am in a similar situation to you," he says, quiet and thoughtful. "I was made to protect the world, and though Ultron is now destroyed there are still threats. Where else would I go but this tower? I am not human."

"You are more human than many people I have known," she says without hesitation, as if the words have been waiting within her. "They believe you're a robot, but I can read your thoughts. HYDRA had me for years - humans can be terrible, but you are good." She breathes, harsh and hard enough to move the loose folds of the blanket bunched over her lap, "I never thanked you. For rescuing me from that train. I thought no one knew where I was and I would die there."

"We are meant to save lives," he says simply. "You do not need to thank me. I noticed you leave the core and I could not let you be alone after your brother fell. I was afraid you would make a decision with terrible consequences."

"He sacrificed himself to save Clint and a child," she says, her voice stiff but the words ringing true. "His last act was noble, and it was not a terrible way to go. He died a hero, fighting with all of us. He stopped a family from losing their son and Natasha from losing Clint."

"I dread to think what would've happened if Agent Romanoff had lost Agent Barton," he says lightly, and the hint of a smile passes across her face. "They are very close."

"And don't we all know it," comes a voice behind them, and Vision looks toward the man descending the stairs from Captain Rogers' quarters, his friend who has become another person residing in the tower.

"Good morning," Wanda says, her voice warm. "Heading out for your jog already?"

"Steve won't wake up to go until five thirty, and if I get this head start I might manage to make it back first," Rogers' friend quips, and Wanda laughs, a soft breath of a sound. "Hey man, don't think we've been properly introduced." He holds out a hand and adds, "Sam Wilson."

"I am Vision." Wilson quirks an eyebrow, but still shakes Vision's hand, and waves cheerfully as he leaves into the mist of the dawn, and Vision turns to Wanda. "Why do people react with such confusion when we are introduced? Agent Hill and Director Fury reacted similarly."

"I think they expect you to choose another name," she explains, her voice soft. "As Natasha is only Black Widow in the field, and Steve is only Captain America when he fights, they expect you to have a name aside from Vision." Her head tilts in consideration, and she continues, "Perhaps a nickname. For outside of our avenging. Short and simple."

Footsteps sound on the stairs once more before she can finish her thoughts, and Captain Rogers emerges, a glow from the overhead lights seeming to give him a halo, and no one could fail to notice that Wanda's eyes light up when she sees him. "Sam is not as subtle as he hoped, then," she observes, and Rogers laughs, crossing the room to put an arm around her. She leans back into him, a contentment in her smile, and that odd heat twists in Vision's chest once more.

"Maybe I'll let him win this round," Rogers suggests, a light humour to his words, and Wanda quirks an eyebrow at him, a corner of her mouth turned up in a smirk. "Or maybe not." He releases Wanda, calming the clench of fire in Vision's blood, and looks between them. "What are you two up to?"

"Just talking," Wanda answers easily. "About the team, and whether we're going to stay."

"I hope you do, both of you." Though he speaks in a generalisation, Rogers' eyes rest on Wanda alone, a meeting of their gaze with so many words lost in the space between them. "We need heroes like you on our team."

And there, the conversation between him and Wanda ends, as the sun rises and people drift into the communal areas from their rooms, making breakfast and talking lightly and folding themselves into chairs. Wanda drifts into a conversation with Barton and Romanoff, the two sharing an armchair with Romanoff half in Barton's lap, and Vision fights the urge to begin a grudge against Captain Rogers for ruining the time he spends with the undeniably intriguing woman who throws back her head and laughs at a joke Barton makes, pale fingers woven around her mug of tea and Rogers' shirt curled sinuously around her slender form.

* * *

The sound of a muted explosion overhead rattles dust from the ceiling like an ashen snowfall, and the picture on the television of a couple embracing in the rain flickers. Clattering on the stairs, and Agent Romanoff emerges, car keys dangling from one finger as she shrugs into a leather jacket and waits, foot tapping. Switching off the television, Vision turns around on the couch to see the irritated tick at the corner of her mouth, her gaze flickering impatiently to the stairs, until she notices him and smiles with her pink-painted lips. "May I ask what that sound was?" he asks, and she rolls her eyes dramatically.

"Tony and Bruce are loose in the lab on no sleep, and now Steve is going to lecture them for endangering everyone with more insane experiments," she says, very fast, and tosses her keys from hand to hand. "Clint and I are taking Wanda out with the Stark credit card. You might want to join us and avoid the shouting and sulking."

His first response is reluctance to leave, but the next moment Wanda appears from the stairwell, hair loose around her shoulders, wearing the same skirt she wore in Sokovia, smiling, and he stands, nodding. Romanoff tilts her head at him and asks, "Is that shirt Tony's?"

Smoothing the material, the logo of some band Stark appreciates crackling beneath his fingers, Vision nods, and a strange gleam comes across Romanoff's eyes. "Just as well Tony gave me blanket permission to use the card to help our new members feel like part of the team," she says cheerfully. "We'll get you a new wardrobe too." Looking at her watch again, she sighs and calls for Agent Barton, her voice edged with threat, and he appears thirty-two seconds later. She glares at him, and he holds out his hands in a gesture of helplessness, kissing the furrow between her eyebrows, a hand cupped to her waist.

Vision glances at Wanda, watching the interaction between the couple with a wistfulness to her smile. Her eyes are starry with dreams, and something hot unfurls in his chest when he imagines that she must think of Rogers, imagine him looking at her as Barton looks at Romanoff. "Agent Barton, Agent Romanoff, should we not be leaving?" Vision asks, breaking the moment between the couple, and Barton looks to him with an easy smile.

"It really is fine to call us by our first names, Vizh," he says, and the nickname gives Vision a moment of pause. "Yeah, we thought we could use a nickname for you outside of training. Makes you feel more like a member of the team, right? Wanda came up with it." Vision looks to her, and she smiles, and they follow the couple down the stairs and out into the bright sunlight, sunglasses slid over eyes as Natasha leads them to her car.

"Tasha drives like a maniac," Clint says with a wicked grin, and she pointedly ushers Wanda into the passenger seat, smiling sweetly at the offended expression Clint affects. The way they interact changes from teasing to romantic so quickly that it is almost difficult to follow, and Clint gives Vision a pointed look as the surrounding buildings flash by. The three in the car with him are the first to treat him so easily, like another member of the team - he can't fail to notice that Banner and Stark still skirt cautiously around him, that Rogers only speaks to him when necessary, that both Rhodes and Wilson look at him with confusion in their eyes. Wanda seeks him out for conversation when she can't sleep and has become, in a short time, the one person living in Stark Tower who always meets his eyes across a crowded room.

The day begins at a Starbucks, using the drive-through to avoid being recognised - Clint grumbles faintly about how difficult it is to be both spy and Avenger, to need to disappear when the whole world knows his face - and Natasha parks her car on a quiet street. She and Clint sit on the bonnet with their drinks, the sun reflecting on their sunglasses, and Vision turns his gaze when Wanda sighs softly, hands wrapped around her cup, misted with condensation. "They're sweet together," she says quietly, gently. "It's nice to see that people like us can find happiness and hold onto it."

"Thor has found happiness too, has he not?" Vision asks. "And Mr. Stark? He and Ms. Potts have their hard times, but they are happy." Wanda smiles, wide and real, her eyes shining with it, and he feels the words tick over some lump in his throat as he asks, "Is that what you wish for yourself? To find happiness?"

"It would be nice," she says softly. "To fall in love, and stay in love. The world is filled with hate and destruction. Love is about building on a single connection and making something of it. Our world is strange and so much of it can't be understood, but love is simple. All you need is two souls to find each other and want each other."

He watches the movement of her lips, the excitement in the gestures of her free hand, the shine in her eyes. She's changed the colour of her nails - they're red now, a bright glossy scarlet, flawless. Her words are bright with excitement as she talks about love, full of youth and hope, and she is glowing, a presence stunning as a star, too great for this sleek silver car. The magic in her flashes in her words, woven perfectly into sentences that make love appear some great adventure, something he would be glad to feel. She's still speaking when Clint raps on the window with his knuckles, offering a hand in assistance as Wanda uncurls her legs from beneath her to climb out of the car.

The store is brightly-lit and busy, voices on every side, but Natasha and Clint move through the crowds easily, seeming to sweep people aside like water to find the dressing rooms. Gentle music, soft instruments following a calming beat, pipes through the speakers, the carpet is thick and plush and the lighting is flattering, framing Wanda in the most perfect way as she turns in her scuffed boots, wonder in her eyes. "Natasha, how much are all these clothes going to cost?" she asks, her voice constricted with amazement.

"Tony bankrolls us, and soon you'll be a SHIELD employee and they'll be paying too," Natasha says with a shrug, spinning the credit card between her fingers, a shining rectangle of black plastic. "Full wardrobes for both of you. Casual and party clothes only, Pepper knows someone who sets us up with full outfits whenever we're invited to a black tie event."

"There aren't too many black tie events that we're one hundred percent expected to attend," Clint adds, seeing the worry in the way Wanda briefly bites at her lip. "Usually just Stark Industries parties, just to put in an appearance for the cameras and all the people Tony wants to suck up to. Usually we sneak out the back and go get takeout."

"We're not talking about you and Thor being the worst guests of honour ever," Natasha says with a fondness to her voice, and Clint winks at Wanda, making her smother a laugh. She looks to Wanda and Vision, beaming, and says, "Come on, children, let's find you both a full closet's worth of clothes."

"The closets in Stark Tower are rather large, Natasha," Vision says, and she grins, eyes bright with mischief.

"Exactly." She is gone after those words, Clint following her as a moon to its planet, flipping through the racks with a strange kind of enthusiasm, and Wanda catches Vision's eye and smiles, beckoning him with a flick of her hand.

An hour later and they are still in the dressing room. Clint is on a third coffee, sitting casually cross-legged on one of the plush stools, watching Natasha trying to choose between two cashmere jumpers in similar shades of blue. "Wanda, are you ready?" she calls out, running a hand through her hair and finally throwing one aside, acknowledging Clint's thumbs-up with a sweet smile.

The young woman who emerges from the dressing room takes Vision's breath away in a way he could never have predicted happening. Wanda is beautiful, quiet and blushing slightly as Clint and Natasha both look at her with stars in their eyes, tugging self-consciously at her skirt and playing with the stone of her necklace. "We're buying all of it," Natasha says, the words ringing out with finality. "Yours too, Vizh. You can both strut your stuff at dinner tonight, Thor's back from London and he's brought his friends with him."

It seems an absurd amount of money to spend on clothes, but Natasha swipes the card easily, bags swinging from their hands as they return to the car. Wanda moves as fluidly as dancing, talking easily with Clint, and Vision watches her, a beauty on the knife edge of time between child and adult, the sunlight in her hair and laughter on her lips. Clint takes the passenger seat this time, choosing the music, and Wanda is close in the back seat, and she never makes to move away when a corner taken at Natasha's breakneck driving speed swings her against his side. If he didn't know better, he'd believe that she lingers for a moment before righting herself, could think that those smiles are for him and him alone.

But when they return to Stark Tower, Rogers is in the kitchen with his phone pressed tightly to his ear, mouth tight in a grimace as he listens intently, and when he waves cheerfully to their group Wanda is positively beaming. He ends the call, and hugs her first, her hair veiling his face, and they match well, fitting together like puzzle pieces. "I see Nat got both of you," he says, nodding to Vision, and he only returns the gesture out of courtesy, silently brooding at the way Wanda looks up at Rogers so brightly, his hand lingering on her shoulder. "Jane emailed in from their flight, they'll be here in about two hours."

"Who's cooking dinner?" Natasha asks, and Clint grins and chuckles softly, pressing a kiss into her hair even as she attempts to bat him away.

"Sam," Rogers answers, and Clint lets out a pantomime sigh of relief. "Dress code is perhaps a little nicer than usual since we've only met Jane a few times. Go, get ready." He squeezes Wanda's shoulder as she moves away, and she smiles at him over her shoulder, her cheeks a little pinker than before, and that heat uncurls itself like a cat in Vision's chest, overwhelming in the way it surges when he looks at the fondness in Rogers' eyes as she gathers her bags and darts gracefully up the stairs.

Vision passes the time in research on Thor's girlfriend, a noted astrophysicist named Jane Foster, who has been at Stark Industries galas before, laughing with Ms. Potts and talking earnestly with Mr. Stark. She has met the Avengers before, as is evident by the pictures posted on her social media pages, but not in the newest team formation, and only at formal events. Never in such an intimate setting as dinner, and he wonders if she will feel uncomfortable among the group as he sorts through the many purchases.

Footsteps rush past the door to his room, rattling the picture frames, and he leaves to almost crash into Dr. Banner. He appears refreshed for the first time since Sokovia, glasses newly polished and clothes neat, and he smiles genuinely. "I like the look," he says, voice warm and welcoming. "Natasha has good taste."

The common area is filled with chatter, the sound of companionship, and Vision can't help the way he gravitates towards Wanda, involved in a laughing conversation with Agent Hill and Ms. Potts. She's wearing a new dress, moving like water around her, black material perfectly contrasted to her pale skin and the silver detailing reminiscent of her brother's hair. She meets his eyes across the room and smiles, cheeks pink, and crosses to him, reaching up to straighten his tie with gentle fingers. "We seem to be matching," she says, smoothing her fingertips down the cashmere of his black sweater and twisting at the strap of her dress with a grin. "This suits you."

"I have to agree," Ms. Potts says, glass of champagne in one hand, blue dress perfect for her, and smiles at Vision so sweetly. "You look very dashing, Vision."

"Thank you, Ms. Potts," he says, feeling a little embarrassed at the attention, Wanda at his side and her fingers curled against his arm making his heart beat a little too fast for comfort. "You look wonderful too."

"Please, Vision, Pepper is fine," she says. "And you're just flattering me."

He opens his mouth to contradict that statement, but Wanda tightens her grip on his arm momentarily, and says, "She's just teasing you, Vizh," around a laugh. Their eyes meet, hers reflecting the light from above them, and the moment only ends with the crash of a door from downstairs, and Thor emerges into their company, grinning from ear to ear as he introduces the woman at his side as Jane Foster, his hand around hers and his gaze soft whenever it rests on her. Another couple arrive, introducing themselves as Darcy and Ian, and they all sit down to Wilson's cooking, the conversation flowing easily and the room content with companionship.

Vision is gazing at Wanda across the table, sleepily leaning into Rogers' side with her fingers still linked around her third glass of wine, his arm half around her as he talks earnestly with Stark, when Clint taps a fork against the side of his glass and stands up, the table's collective gaze turning to him. "While we're all together, I have an announcement to make," he says, and the attention levels rise, despite the warm exhaustion of many people around the table. "I've signed the papers, so as of now I'm no longer a field agent for SHIELD. I'm retiring from the Avengers and everything else like that, unless the world really needs me. I'll be a consultant from now on, like Tony and Bruce."

"And I must return to Asgard to help my people and all those across the nine realms," Thor says, raising his glass to Clint, and the mood feels distinctly sombre for a moment, a mourning for a family that many of these people found.

Rogers stands, glass held aloft, Wanda's gaze firmly on him as she leans her chin against her hand, and he says, "Then I'll take the opportunity to announce that Sam and Rhodey will be joining the New Avengers, along with Wanda," he smiles at her, a sweetness she returns, "and Vision. Natasha and myself will lead the new line-up."

"To the New Avengers!" Stark calls out, and the toast is echoed around the table, glasses clinking and hope in every pair of eyes. Across the table, Wanda gives Vision a secretive smile, and his breath catches once more, his heart skipping even as Rogers sits down once more and her attention returns to him.

* * *

Sunrise over the Avengers compound emerges golden over the trees at the height of their summer flourishing, thick with dark leaves, clipped neat by the scores of people who come to and from the sprawling mansion, attending to the upkeep of the place. Vision watches Rogers and Wilson circling the track that skims the corners of the estate, Rogers always ahead. The morning is quiet in their closed-off world, Rhodes and Wanda and Natasha still downstairs in their rooms, and as the last shadows of night disappear below the horizon Rogers finally stops, and Vision turns away from watching Wilson finish his final lap, descending the spiral staircase into the common area.

"Good morning," Natasha says when he emerges into the kitchen. She stands at the counter turning rashers of bacon, wearing an oversized purple T-shirt and a pair of worn leggings, hair tangled around her shoulders. Rhodes is lying across one of the couches, clicking at the screen of his tablet, feet in their plaid socks kicked up on the arm, and gives Vision a polite nod in greeting. Wanda waves, and he takes in everything about her quiet morning beauty - the new blonde highlights in her hair, to remember her brother, her eyes still glistening with the aftermath of sleep, her small smile and her fingers wound around a mug of tea. Her legs are curled up beneath her, the pattern on her shorts drawing the eye, and one strap of her shirt has slid from her shoulder, curled around her arm as she pats the cushion next to her for him to sit down.

Natasha serves out breakfast to Wanda and Rhodes, Wanda balancing the plate on her bare knees, smiling up at the other woman in thanks. Righting himself, Rhodes accepts his plate and says, "Nat, remind me again what this press conference is about."

"Maria organised it, it's just meant to be a way to dispel all of the rumours about us all after Sokovia, now that we've left Stark Tower and Tony has obviously retired," Natasha says. "Fury's watching too, they'll decide whether to give us all extra press training based on how we handle this small scale conference."

"You and Steve have had the press training, right?" Wanda asks around a mouthful of bacon, and Natasha nods. "I bet press training with Thor was fun."

"Clint and I handled most of the public relations," Natasha says with an immodest grin. "Pepper helped out, speaking for Tony when he was in one of his outrageous moods. Thor only had a couple of press conferences, right after New York." Her gaze levels suggestively at Vision as she adds, "Not all of us have to be public faces. It can fall to just Steve and I if that's what you want."

"Hell no," comes Wilson's voice, as he and Rogers return from the running track, Wilson breathing heavily but Rogers barely showing a sign of their training. "Do you know how charming I am with the press?"

"Have a lot of experience with that, Sam?" Rhodes teases.

"More than you," Wilson shoots back, and Natasha rolls her eyes at the two men. "So who am I charming today and when, Nat?"

"Our new press liaison will be here around eleven to pick us up, conference starts at one, and all Maria has told us to do is let the press know who we are and our plans for the new team, which means Steve and I will be fielding most of the questions," Natasha explains easily. "Vizh, Wanda, if a question makes you uncomfortable you are allowed to say 'no comment'."

Their press liaison is a young man, shirt already crumpled by the rush of the day's warmth, phone seemingly permanently in one hand as he shepherds them out to a car, barely pausing to introduce himself as Thomas. The waiting car is as plush as Vision has come to understand anyone will offer the Avengers, welcoming in their band of superheroes. Rogers and Wilson both spend the journey reading, Rhodes draws out ideas for battle formations in the notebook he keeps with him at all times, Natasha re-reads the press release SHIELD gave out on their behalf after Sokovia, and Wanda watches the world streaming by outside the window.

The venue for the conference stands tall, and they are ushered into a side room where a band of people wait for them, carefully labelled garment bags awaiting them. Stark is waiting, welcoming both women with a kiss to the cheek and each man with a shake of the hand. "Full house out there," he remarks, hands in his pockets and watching a young woman twist Natasha's hair into an intricate style. "The world is waiting for this conference to go out."

"Way to calm our nerves, Tony," Rhodes remarks, and one corner of Tony's mouth twists upwards in a smirk.

"You all look great," he says, bracing. "Very professional." Rhodes rolls his eyes, leaning in towards the only mirror in the room to adjust his collar. They are called out ten minutes later, to tables labelled with each of their names. Rogers, Natasha, Wilson and Rhodes all illustrate their experience in this area, taking their seats and pouring themselves water from the waiting jug, but Wanda hesitates, a shyness in her eyes.

"Next to me," Rogers says, and pulls her chair out for her. She smiles, gracefully taking her seat, and their eyes meet, Rogers looking at her with so much affection that the whole room must feel it. Resigned to the seat between Rhodes and Wilson, Vision sits down perhaps a touch more forcefully than necessary, taking in the crowds of reporters with recorders and pen and paper.

The opening question is directed to Rogers, a welcome and an inquiry of the new line-up. He clears his throat and affects a serious expression, answering, "Though we were of course sad to say goodbye to our former members, Tony, Bruce and Clint have stayed in a consultant capacity and Thor had his own duties to attend to, and their reasons for leaving the team were completely understandable. I have every confidence in our new line-up and we will become just as strong a team."

Questions come thick and fast, caught mostly by Rogers and Natasha but occasionally by Wilson or Rhodes. Vision remains mostly silent, taking mental notes on how to handle conferences like this with the same cool as his teammates. Wilson is as charming as he boasted of, making reporters smile and the occasional laugh rumble through the room, leaning forward in his chair as if he can't wait to hear what they have to say. Rhodes is soldier-like, straight-backed in his chair and answering questions with the perfect choice of words, eloquent and to the point. Natasha and Rogers seem in between the two approaches, charming as needed and cooler when asked more barbed questions.

Wanda has been pulling at loose threads on her skirt beneath the table before she's addressed, the reporter in question an older man with glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. "My question is for Ms. Maximoff. How do you respond to the criticism of your appointment to the Avengers? Accusations have been made of your previous loyalty to HYDRA and the nature of your powers. Do you believe that these accusations are unfounded, or are you too dangerous to be trusted to protect us?"

Anger flames in Vision's chest at the accusations, the smugness evident in the reporter's voice, and he can see the same rage in his teammates' eyes, Natasha's expression slipping into something appalled before she can smooth it out neutral again. Wanda's eyes flash, and she snaps, "No comment," in a tone so vicious it makes it clear she has a number of choice words for such a question.

"We've all had questionable loyalties in the past, not just superheroes," Natasha says, a threat implicit in her words. "At one point in their lives, everyone has trusted someone they shouldn't have. What matters is the decision you make in the end."

"Wanda risked her life choosing to help us in Sokovia, and has lost as much of any of us in the fight against forces like HYDRA," Steve says, and Wanda looks at him gratefully, articulating what she cannot, and Vision silently seethes at the look in her eyes, such adoration. "You can accuse any of us of being weapons - we are. But we are people too. The media would do well to remember that."

When the conference ends, Vision still seethes at the very thought of the accusations directed at Wanda - by all rights, they should be targeting him as well, his powers from the same source, just as dangerous as she is. But they didn't dare to address a question to him directly, leaving him a statue between Rhodes and Wilson, and instead targeted her. The hum of conversation between the leaving reporters echoes back to the small room where they wait for the crowds to disperse before leaving, and Natasha is talking very fast into her phone, occasionally breaking off to spit Russian expletives.

"I hate gossip reporters," Stark remarks from his corner of the room, clicking at the screen of his phone. "Twitter is entertaining in that aftermath. Looks mostly negative towards the reporter and not us."

"Good," Rogers says, harsh as a full stop, and puts an arm around Wanda, fingers curled over her waist. She leans against him, eyes closed in contentment, and remains in that position until they move to leave.

* * *

The eerie red glow of the security lights flickers over Natasha's face where she's crouched in the precarious position above Vision, the barrel of her gun winking in the low light and a knife gleaming in the holster crossing her thigh. The communications device in his ear crackles to life, Rhodes' voice coming strong and clear through the connection. "Sam and I rounded up the henchmen. None of them are talking."

"Call in our back-up to take care of them," Rogers says, his voice filled with authority, the voice of a leader. "Keep sweeping the area. If Rumlow leaves from any entrance, I want to know about it. Natasha, status?"

"Vision and I have swept the south side of the building, he's certainly not here," Natasha says, acknowledging Vision with a polite nod. "Plans of the building indicate a basement, but we haven't seen stairwells or any way of getting down there."

"Vision, take care of that," Steve orders. "Dematerialise and see if there's anything below the surface. If there's any evidence, bring as much as you can carry. It may take months to get another lead on Rumlow. Wanda, status?"

"West corridors are clear, Captain," comes Wanda's reply, and a rush of warmth fills Vision's chest, knowing she's safe. "Haven't seen another living soul."

"We've only rounded up fifteen men," Wilson says, an edge to his words. "A place of this size, I can't imagine them being so few here. Stay on guard - they might have cloaking tech."

Natasha gives Vision a swift nod, and with a breath he descends through the floor, materialising in darkness. It seems security lighting doesn't extend to lower levels, and he's momentarily grateful for the insistence that they all carry flashlights, shining it into every corner, on guard for assailants. But he appears to be alone, and nothing of interest emerges from the shadows. Mere dust, and heavy silence. "The basement appears clear, Captain," he says, and hears Rogers' heavy sigh.

"Alright - Sam, Rhodey, keep circling the building. Everyone else, converge from each direction towards the centre. We'll trap Rumlow and bring him in." The heaviness of Rogers' tone sets Vision on edge, but he moves back up into the main floor of the building, every footstep seeming too heavy. He catches glimpses through windows of Wilson and Rhodes whipping through the air, guns trained of the ground, but it appears as if Rumlow has slipped out from under their noses.

It all happens at once. A gunshot. A scream. Shattering glass. Running footsteps. Pushing through a series of walls, Vision feels cold fear steal over him when he sees Wanda on the ground, Rogers kneeling over her, and Natasha with fire in her eyes, reloading her gun. "Vision, with me," she says.

"But-"

" _With me_!" She runs and leaps from the smashed window, glass still glittering in jagged pieces, and with a last desperate glance at Wanda's prone form Vision follows her.

"He's in the truck!" Wilson shouts through the feed, the sheer volume distorting his voice, and gunshots ring out, Wilson, Rhodes and Natasha all emptying their ammunition in the direction of the truck that's fast getting away.

Rumlow is there, Rumlow shot Wanda, she could be alive or dead, she could still die, and the fire of anger scalds through Vision, stronger than ever before, and before he can think it through he instinctively shoots at the truck. A moment later, he's watching in horror as the jet of light misses the truck, hitting the lower floor of a building along the side of the road. Below him, Natasha's hand has flown to her mouth, and Rhodes' voice shakes a little as he says, "Sam, fire and rescue protocol."

Touching back to the ground, helplessly watching his two teammates soaring towards the smoking building, Vision turns to Natasha, noticing the graze across her cheek, her hands shaking as she holsters her guns. "I didn't mean...I was aiming for the truck," he says, unsure of what to say, how to express the rage that surged up within him, twisting reality into nothing but revenge. It's not a pleasant feeling.

"I know you were," she says softly, and looks up with a tight smile, obviously meant to be reassuring but barely halfway there. "You missed. It happens to the best of us. Aiming is difficult when it's a moving target." She moves away, but he can still hear her say, "Steve, Rumlow got away. Is Wanda alright?"

As if in answer, a van emblazoned with the SHIELD logo comes screaming towards them, and agents in dark clothes scramble out of the front seat, producing a stretcher and a black bag of medical supplies. The emergency medical team, always on standby, and cold fear fills Vision as if a black hole, that Wanda will be lying on the edge of death and that SHIELD won't be able to do anything for her despite all of their expertise.

Seeing her brought from the building does nothing to reassure him. She's unconscious on the stretcher, held between two agents with carefully set faces, neutral masks of professionalism. Vision sees her, her eyelids a delicate bruised purple, dark eyelashes fanned over her pale cheeks, and he sees Rogers' hands awash with blood, _her_ blood, and his heart clenches with anger. "Captain," one of the agents says, "you should come with us. Stay with her."

"Natasha, take care of the team," Steve says, but he seems vague, his focus all on Wanda, and the doors of the van closing on him crack as loudly as a gunshot, the gunshot that might have ended Wanda's life and taken her light from the world, a bullet killing her as swiftly as it killed her brother, and Vision finds he's shaking.

Natasha's hand lands on his shoulder, and he comes back to reality to find that he's on the ground, looking up into her sympathetic eyes. "It's always hard, the first time someone on the team is hurt so severely," she says. "Sam gave an update, that building was empty. It'll fall to SHIELD to pay damages, not us. Fury wants us back at base for debriefing."

"I want to see her," Vision says, surprised himself by how quiet his words are, how desperate and afraid.

"You can, but after we've talked to Fury," Natasha says, using that same gentle tone of voice he heard her speaking to Wanda with immediately following Sokovia. Now it's autumn, a chill to the air and the leaves spiralling red and gold from the trees, and Wanda could join her brother in death. "It won't take long. An agency rising from the ashes means far less paperwork."

A silent ride in their sleek black car awaits them, and Vision watches his teammates wiping dust and dirt from their skin, worry in their eyes, and even Agent Hill seems fearful, waiting for them in the new SHIELD facility. Fury turns to them as they sit, and opens with, "Rumlow escaped?"

"Yes sir," Natasha says. "Unfortunately we were unable to apprehend him, and couldn't find any information which might lead us closer to him. But we have brought in fifteen of his associates, who with interrogation may give us clues to his location."

"Pretty big if, Romanoff," Fury says. "Rumlow got away having seen your team, and will no doubt have memorised your faces and powers and warned any HYDRA associates he has of what they should be looking out for. You have compromised your ability as a covert team, not to mention destroyed a building. It's a miracle no one was hurt."

"The destruction was my fault alone, Director Fury," Vision says immediately, and Fury's gaze turns to him, a quietly destructive anger focused entirely on him. "I aimed to hit the vehicle Rumlow was escaping in, but I was unsuccessful. I was distracted and unable to aim correctly."

"I'm removing you from all field ops in civilian-heavy areas until further notice," Fury says, a swift cut of the knife. "Continue training with the team, and you can join them in the field when ops are in remote locations. Prove you can control your powers better, and you will be reinstated. Understand?"

"Perfectly, Director Fury," Vision says, ignoring the horrified look Wilson and Rhodes exchange. "Will that be all?" Fury gazes at him for a moment, then nods to him, fixing the other three with a stern gaze as Vision leaves, directly into Agent Hill's path.

"The medical team have Wanda stabilised," she says, and the measure of relief is so overwhelming that Vision almost has to lean against the wall for support. "She'll be fine. The bullet grazed her rather than wounding any deeper. She asked to see you." Though Vision will later dismiss it as imagination, wishful thinking, there's a definite interesting quality to her voice when she says, "Specifically you."

He moves as fast as possible to the one room that SHIELD calls a medical suite, finding Wanda propped up on a number of pillows, out of her blood-stained clothes and lighting up when he walks into the room, suddenly conscious that he's still in uniform, especially next to Rogers. A small voice within him murmurs that Rogers can't have stayed by Wanda's side as he should have, out of uniform and into an undoubtedly ludicrously expensive jumper, his hands cleaned of blood and his fingers intertwined tightly with Wanda's.

When she shifts in the bed to straighten herself, she winces, and Vision moves forward before he notices the concern on Steve's face, how gentle he is as he helps her to sit up without jostling the IV in her arm. "You're okay," Vision says, unable to think of how else to open the conversation, and Wanda smiles.

"I'll have a scar, but otherwise they say I'll make a full recovery," she says, her free hand brushing over her side, rigid with bandages. "Steve was telling me Rumlow escaped."

"We were unable to stop him," Vision says, noticing how she deflates, wondering if she feels that her injury was for nothing. "I damaged an unoccupied building with a bad shot, and Director Fury has ordered me to stay away from missions in civilian areas."

"What?!" Wanda protests, and one of the machines surrounding her lets out an anxious beep, Rogers' thumb circling over her wrist in a soothing gesture of intimacy. "That's crazy. Who'll watch our backs now?"

"We do a pretty good job," Rogers says, good-humoured affection in his voice, and leans in to kiss her temple softly. She smiles, her eyes softening and a flush stealing into her still-pale cheeks, and some odd blend of anger and sadness clutches at Vision's throat, constricting the words he wants to say.

Rogers stays at her side that night, ensconced quietly in the medical suite, the first point of call for all the agents who helped Wanda stay alive. Vision is left to return to the compound with the other three members of the team, Wilson reassuring him that Fury will come around once the damages have been paid for, Rhodes looking at him with new distrust in his eyes, and Natasha barely saying a word. On the roof of the compound in the depths of the night, the cold wind whipping through the trees, he can't help but wish that he was the one at her side, holding her hand.

* * *

Manhattan appears to have been taken over by festive spirit, every street bright with strings of lights, holiday offers posted in every window of every business, and as the car draws up outside Stark Tower Clint shoots into the nearest café, with its window proudly proclaiming the wonders of their Christmas offers. Natasha rolls her eyes, a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth, and she says, "Honestly, that man's first priority in life is coffee."

"As long as he gets me a hot chocolate, I don't mind that," Rogers says, making most of the car's occupants laugh, and starts emptying the trunk of everyone's luggage.

Stark is waiting for them, wearing a thick jumper emblazoned with silhouettes of reindeer against a full moon, and glares when Natasha starts laughing. "As we have new friends with us this Christmas, I thought I would try for maximum festivity," he says, kissing her cheek in greeting regardless of her continued laughter. "I expect everyone to go along with the theme."

"You'll get me in a corny Christmas sweater when I'm in my grave, Stark." Rhodes says, clasping Stark in a hug, and sweeping inside in a show of how familiar the tower is to him. Vision hangs back, watching Rogers and Wilson falling into step together, both carrying a suitcase in each hand, Natasha waiting for Clint as snow falls on her shoulders, white flakes catching in her hair.

Wanda stays in the deluge of snowflakes, looking up in wonder at the sky, and Vision moves to her side, amazed to see the sheer joy in her eyes. "I can't remember the last time I got to see and enjoy the snow," she says softly, a wistful sadness in her words, and she moves towards him. She's so close, curled into him, and he knows it's simply because he can regulate his own body temperature and keep himself warm enough. They all know that, Natasha has a terrible habit of putting her feet on him when they're together and she's cold.

"Mr. Stark owns so much land, we'll have a lot of snow to ourselves," he says, his arm wrapping instinctively around her. "You'll be able to enjoy it." She smiles up at him, scarlet scarf fluttering in the breeze, her lips painted to match, and for a moment the world narrows to just them.

"Look, Tasha, don't look at me like that, I got enough for everyone!" Clint shouts, and Vision looks up to see him zigzagging around patches of ice on the sidewalk, carrying a cardboard tray of coffee cups in each hand. "For you, my love, a peppermint mocha. And for you, Wanda, a Christmas cookie latte."

Fondness seems to overwhelm Natasha's irritation, and she kisses Clint gently, careful not to knock him into dropping any of his numerous coffee mugs. Wilson emerges from the Tower once again, returning for more cases, and grins at Vision as he passes. "Thank God Tony has an elevator, right?" he says, and Vision nods, not sure how else to respond. "C'mon, you lot, if you don't get up there fast all the good bedrooms will have been claimed."

"They better not, couples get first pick!" Clint shouts, and darts into the building. Wanda moves away, shivering as the wind whips along the street, lifting the falling snowflakes and sending them wheeling. The last cases come out of the car, Wilson slams the trunk shut and the three of them head for the elevator, rising up to the common area.

"My friends!" comes the boom of Thor's greeting, and Vision watches Wanda hug him, giving a polite nod to Dr. Foster at Thor's side. The warmth of the companionship in the room is almost overwhelming, even Banner emerging from the tower's lab to greet them.

The Christmas spirit has made its way into Stark Tower to an almost obnoxious level, a luxuriously decorated Christmas tree on every floor, lights flashing and flickering and sprigs of mistletoe hanging from the ceilings of all communal areas, prompting Natasha to point one out with an almost lazy lift of one eyebrow towards Stark. "Really, Tony? How old are you?"

"I might remind you, Romanoff, I have a girlfriend," Stark retorts. "Mistletoe is part of the grand tradition of Christmas, and it's all in good fun. I would never trap people under the mistletoe in order to get them to kiss."

"Tony, you did that to Steve and Maria last Christmas," Banner says, making most laugh and Rogers shake his head fondly.

"Well, I thought they seemed like two lonely souls who deserved to maybe have a little holiday kiss!" Stark snaps defensively, folding his arm over his chest. "I didn't know Maria is gay!" Leaning on the back of the couch, he winks at Rogers and says, "Maybe you'll get some action this year, huh, Rogers?"

"Where's your much better half, Stark?" Rogers asks, noticeably glossing over the teasing.

"Pepper is still at the office, apparently running a multi-million dollar company is a bit of a burden," Stark says, taking the cup Clint offers him. "And we're still waiting for another friend of ours to arrive. We tracked him down trying to hack into the SHIELD database, turns out he has shrinking tech and was behind Cross Technologies blowing up back in July."

"Seems like the time to make my entrance," comes an unfamiliar voice, a dark-haired man framed in the doorway, hands tucked casually into his pockets, but nerves obvious in his eyes. "Hi, I'm Scott Lang. I, uh, know all your names."

"The Cross Tech job was all over the news," Clint comments, almost idly. "You destroyed an entire facility that was creating dangerous technology, exposed a HYDRA cell and then disappeared from everyone's radar."

"Well, my tech is meant to make me disappear," Lang says with a shrug and a smile, and Clint nods approvingly. "I was trying to access the SHIELD server to find out where active HYDRA cells are, and got caught. Now I'm spending Christmas with the Avengers and my mentor is horrified because he had a crazy rivalry with Howard Stark back in the day."

"Yep, my dad had a lot of rivalries back in the day," Stark says, a strange pride to his words, and claps a hand on Lang's shoulder. "How horrified will Pym be if we try recruiting you?"

"Oh, you have no idea," Lang says, smirking happily. "So how do the Avengers normally celebrate Christmas?"

"Quietly," Rogers says, and a ripple of laughter fills the room. "No press, no public appearances, just us in this building being together. It's a holiday for us too." He allows a moment of reverent silence, then adds, "But of course, if there's an attack we'll suspend our celebrations to go on the offense."

"And anyone who interrupts our Christmas holiday will feel our wrath," Wilson says darkly, and Lang laughs. There's a distinct impression that Lang is going to fit in just fine, and Vision doesn't doubt that they'll try to recruit him, and probably succeed before the festive season ends and they all have to come back down to earth.

But for now, it's still Christmas, and Wanda's hand slides around his elbow as he watches Rhodes and Wilson engaging in a friendly competition over which of them is able to get all luggage to its correct location the fastest. He looks down at her, snowflakes caught in her scarf and beanie tugged down over her hair. "Come outside with me," she says, and tugs at him until he follows her, out onto the balcony. The cold immediately steals into him, almost thrilling in its shock, and he looks down at the perfect square of land behind the building, the snow thus far undisturbed.

As they watch, Clint emerges from the door far below them, Lang accompanying him, the two of them shouting back and forth and Natasha following, watching the two men begin throwing snowballs at each other. "I want to show you something," Wanda says softly, and Vision watches the glowing tendrils of scarlet gather in her fingertips, and she rises from the balcony, smiling. "I taught myself," she says, spinning in a graceful circle. "Steve suggested that I might be able to manipulate the air, he's been pushing me to explore what I can actually do. I'll be able to join the air team now."

"And Natasha and Rogers will be the only members of our team who can't fly," Vision says, not without a certain measure of satisfaction at the thought of Rogers being unable to keep up with Wanda anymore.

Wanda doesn't seem to notice, instead guiding herself beyond the bars of the balcony, and smirking wickedly at him. "Come on, bet I can get to the ground faster than you," she teases, and drops. A fear that she could lose control seizes at him, and he follows her down, racing towards the ground and her laughing eyes.

Under Natasha's watchful eyes, the two of them manage to win over Clint and Lang in a snowball fight, Clint shouting that Wanda using her powers to create bigger snowballs is cheating, Lang laughing gleefully with every snowball thrown. Wanda is shivering violently, her hair hanging lank around her face and snow packed into every crease of her clothes, and Vision puts an arm around her before realising what he's doing, trying to keep her warm.

"Tasha, why aren't you keeping me warm?" Clint shouts, and Natasha looks up from the snowman she's constructing, lifting an eyebrow at her shivering boyfriend.

"If you're immature enough to get yourself into a snowball fight with those two, then you deserve to be cold," she retorts, but relents enough to kiss him softly. "Go back inside if you're cold." Shaking his head frantically in response, Clint falls back onto the ground to begin making snow angels, and Lang joins him with a whoop of joy.

Wanda tugs at Vision's arm again, and he follows her inside. Her cheeks are pink with the cold, and she smiles as she brushes snow from his shoulders, the touch of her hands making his heart skip worryingly. He tries to return the favour, and she is beaming up at him, shaking snow from the sleeves of her coat, and he follows her into the common area, watching her walk easily into the kitchen and start making herself a hot chocolate with an intensity that worries even him.

She sits so close to him on the couch, in her soft jumper and her hair damp and clinging to her cheeks and neck, drawing the eye. Her fingers are wrapped around one of Stark's generic coffee mugs, the rising steam adding further colour to her skin, her nails glittering in the light from above, and she's smiling so sweetly that it seems to steal the breath right from him.

"I see you've already been enjoying the snow." Though Wanda doesn't move away from him, it's obvious that her attention changes as Rogers enters the room, and it makes Vision's heart heavy in a way he doesn't understand.

* * *

Christmas in Stark Tower is an quiet an affair as Rogers promised. Vision watches the night pass alone, everyone sleeping peacefully and awaiting the morning, when they're all roused by Clint singing as he switches on the coffee machine and opens the fully-stocked fridge. They sit in groups around the common area, opening presents and leaving the wrapping paper scattered like a gaudy snowfall across the floor. Affection seems to rule the room, Natasha and Clint curled up together in front of the fireplace, Jane taking Thor out to enjoy the unending snowfall and Rogers, after packing the shreds of wrapping paper into a bag and making sure the mugs of coffee, tea and hot chocolate are distributed correctly, takes his place comfortably at Wanda's side.

However, compared to the calm atmosphere of Christmas morning, as New Year's Eve progresses the energy level in the tower continues to rise, music playing through Stark's speaker system into every room, a background buzz as Vision continues reading the atlas Wilson gave him for Christmas, looking at pictures of sprawling golden sands and endless blue seas and rolling green hills. Footsteps echo from every corner of the building, with so many people in the same place trying to prepare for the night coming, and when he opens the door he finds Jane with her phone balanced against her shoulder, a seemingly heavy bag in each hand.

Glass clinks loudly as he takes one from her, and she beams gratefully at him and adjusts her phone accordingly. "No, no, I'll tell them, they'll understand," she says. "Absolutely, you two have a good night. I'll call you tomorrow."

"This is going to be a rather wild party, I see," Vision remarks, and Jane laughs as she stows her phone back in her pocket and adjusts her grip on the carrier bag.

"There's a lot of people, and it _is_ New Year's," she says. "It's one of the few nights of the year when most people are able to let go of everything except having a good time. Darcy's just told me her and Ian won't make it." There's a shine in her eyes, and perhaps a slight wistfulness to her smile, as she adds, "They've just found out she's pregnant."

Allowing a moment for the new information to sink in, she takes the second bag back from Vision and gives him a quick up and down flicker of her gaze. "You've got maybe two hours to be ready for the party. It's going to be fun!"

Downstairs, Wilson is still in his pyjamas and standing over the oven, looking up when Vision walks in and grinning. "Great, extra pair of hands!" he says, stirring something and beckoning Vision over. "Watch the food, I'm heading up to get ready. Everything has a timer for it, the list for what needs to come out first is over there. When it's done, cover it and leave it on the counter."

Watching the food turns out to be a more interesting task than Vision could've predicted, seeing colour and texture changing over time, each ring of a timer bringing another dish from the oven, the kitchen rapidly filling with steam and warmth. People pass through the common area, sometimes pausing for a cup of coffee or a hastily-snatched something from one of the bowls Sam's laid out along the table, and each time pause to admire the waiting food.

At long last, Wilson returns downstairs, dressed for the evening in a suit red as the wine he pours out for himself, and grins appreciatively. "Now, you go get dressed, Vizh, you've got half an hour," he says. "It all looks great."

"You did most of the work, Mr. Wilson." Wilson rolls his eyes, and reminds Vision once again to call him Sam, the order in his mind as he returns to his room. Choosing clothes that will hopefully live up to the formal dress code that appears to have been set, he dresses and returns to the common area to find it filling up with his friends.

Dinner is not to be lingered over tonight, the wine flowing freely enough that Lang stumbles slightly when he stands to take his plate to the kitchen, laughter of the raucous kind indicating the consumption of alcohol filling the room. Once the meal is over, the music grows louder, gestures grow wilder and everyone begins dancing, the lighting lowered and the bass shaking through the walls and floor.

Picking up empty bottles before they can be stepped on or knocked into corners, Vision wonders briefly what it would be to be human, for alcohol to create the same effect in him as it clearly does in the people surrounding him. Sam, Clint and Lang have all removed their suit jackets, a wine stain emerging clearly on Lang's shoulder, and are dancing energetically in the centre of the room, raucously cheered on by Stark and Rhodes. Rogers is apparently unaffected by alcohol, watching carefully over the proceedings while simultaneously deep in conversation with Banner and Thor. Agent Hill and a blonde woman briefly introduced as Sharon are dancing together in one corner, eye contact never faltering, and Vision pauses to wonder if they're seeing a fledgling relationship growing before them.

Though Pepper had to escape to a quieter room to take a call, laughingly citing her role as the head of Stark Industries as the biggest part of her life, Jane, Natasha and Wanda are clustered together in one corner of the room, laughing. In the dimly-lit room, Vision can let his gaze linger on Wanda, her movements loose from the alcohol, her dress as scarlet as the name the media have given her over the past few months, one strap twisted down over her shoulder, Natasha's hand on her arm appearing to keep her from swaying from side to side.

Setting the empty bottles in the sink to be cleared in the morning, he lets himself listen to the conversation they're having, Jane's laugh drawing his attention. "I think I like Wanda when she's drinking," Natasha says, and Wanda shoots her a glare that would perhaps be more effective if she wasn't leaning so heavily on Natasha to stay upright.

"Stop making fun of me!" Wanda protests, sounding so young that Vision smiles softly to himself, heart warm with adoration. "I should be allowed to tell my friends about the secret thoughts I have! I just really like him!"

"Everyone is very aware of that," Jane remarks. "He walks into the room and you light up like the Fourth of July." She giggles to herself at the words, and something cold clenches at Vision's chest, the sudden realisation of who they're talking about.

"I just want to kiss him," Wanda says, almost whining, petulant as a child. "Or I want him to kiss me. I've been waiting so long!"

"Maybe you should make the move," Natasha suggests, and there's a momentary flash of hatred for her through Vision's mind. "I mean, it's New Year's. It's a great excuse to kiss someone you like because tradition dictates it."

Turning away from the conversation, the laughter ringing in his ears and his mind spinning with the idea of Wanda kissing Rogers at midnight and the two of them becoming the couple they've been moving towards becoming for months. Instead, he joins Stark and Rhodes in the centre of the room, Stark slinging his arm around Vision's shoulders and welcoming him to the group of men refilling their glasses and talking loudly over each other.

The countdown is started by an overenthusiastic Lang with two minutes to midnight, and Vision watches couples drawing together, moving into the corner to be alone as the new year draws closer and the champagne is poured. At thirty seconds, he sees Wanda drifting closer to Rogers, a sweet smile on her face directed at him, his eyes softening with affection as he puts an arm around her, and the pain is so exquisite that he can't stay and watch them collide, leaving the party and descending the stairs to stand outside as the new year arrives, the sky lighting up with fireworks and the sounds of life and love filling the air.

He stands in the cold of the night, breath rising visibly on the air before him, snow spiralling down from the pale clouds above and the whistles and pops of fireworks, and seethes with jealousy. It runs bitter and hot through him, at the mere thought of Wanda with Rogers, of the kiss they must've exchanged as the new year came ringing in, at the way he only has to walk into a room to have her lighting up. It can't be denied any more - he has feelings for Wanda, feelings he can't understand but continue to rule over him as logic never could, making his heart skip and his breath catch in his throat when he sees her, making him only have to see her to feel happier, and making this entire situation so much worse.

The door opening behind him brings the faint sounds of laughter and music spilling into the cold air, and he turns to find Banner coming to join him, coat collar turned up against the wind whipping along the quiet streets. "Thought I'd join you for some air," he says by way of explanation, a slight smile lifting the corners of his mouth. "It's pretty loud up there. Thor's not helping."

They stand in silence, watching the colours of the fireworks slowly fade out of the sky, until Banner clears his throat and says, "You know, no one is going to hold it against you if you just leave the party. Not everyone can deal with that much noise."

"The noise level wasn't bothering me," Vision says, and sees the curiosity bloom on Banner's voice. "Tonight's events have led me to realise something that I have been denying for a while. Perhaps my whole life."

"Well, it is New Year's, everyone says they'll make radical changes," Banner says, so casually. "Maybe yours could be talking about this. I swear, I won't tell anyone up there. They probably won't remember in the morning anyway."

Words that have been lingering in the back of Vision's mind for months come rushing to the surface at Banner's gentle tone, and he hears himself saying, "I believe I may have strong feelings for Wanda," seemingly before making the decision to reveal the information.

Banner is momentarily wide-eyed, but composes himself quickly, smiling and appearing so sympathetic. "I assume you mean romantic feelings," he says, and Vision nods, feeling as exhausted as if he's been involved in a fight as deadly as the battle in Sokovia, just from telling Banner of his suspicions. "The easiest solution to that is just to tell her. I mean, not tonight, New Year's is not the night to tell someone you love them - too much excitement and alcohol, it's like introducing a puppy at Christmas. But another time."

"How should I tell her?" Vision asks, and something changes in Banner's eyes, a guard dropping down, nostalgia clouding through him.

"I mean, I could tell you, or you could ask Clint or Tony or Thor," he says, and Vision is ready to hear the advice, to understand more of the world these new feelings will take him into, of the relationship he could expect to have. "But I guess you have to be the one to decide how you do it, so it's right for you and her. You know her pretty well, right? You guys are close. I mean, she's always next to you, that usually counts for something."

Privately, Vision feels that this statement only proves how little Banner knows of the team dynamics in the months since he chose to retire into a consultant position, but he understands that saying so aloud would only lead to a further conversation. Thankfully, the silence is broken by Stark appearing at the door, tie askew and wearing no coat to protect him against the cold, shouting, "Bruce! Get back in here! It's New Year's!"

As he ascends the stairs behind Banner, the music and laughter growing louder with every step, the door far above them opens and Wanda stumbles into the stairwell, flushed with heat and too much to drink, Rogers following and putting an arm firmly around her waist. "Oh, Vision, there you are," he says, seemingly oblivious to the white-hot flash of jealousy that runs through Vision, bringing with it irrational anger and hatred. "Could you get Scott upstairs? He's hit the stage where he just needs to sleep it off."

Nodding despite all the anger within him, Vision avoids speaking to anyone as he finds Lang half-asleep on the couch, pulling him to his feet and coaxing him up the stairs despite his protests. Leaving him with a glass of water and a bucket, he continues to climb the stairs until he hits the roof, the sky pale with snow clouds above him, and stays there as the night passes and the noise from below quietens until it's gone altogether, the rest of his friends in bed and sleeping off the excesses of the evening.

As light stains the sky, he finds himself in the kitchen, surrounded by empty glasses and bottles, the sink stacked high with plates. Moving them all into the dishwasher, he looks at the stacks of recipe books marring the streamlined white and silver of the room, multi-coloured spines carefully lined up in parallel. The common area is so quiet after the long night, and even cleaning the spillages and neatly folding discarded suit jackets to be placed at the end of the coffee table still doesn't allow for anyone to awake.

Sam may not have needed to be taken care of as Lang did, but he drank rather a lot - their group's usual cook will be out of commision when people at long last start to emerge from their beds. Taking down the recipe book that appears the most basic, Vision turns to instructions for making pancakes, finding the correct ingredients in the fridge and working in solitary silence, the sky outside growing lighter and a few people beginning to fill the streets so far below.

The food is almost ready by the time there's a lone footstep on the stairs, and it's Wanda who emerges, pale and puffy-eyed, wrapped in a thick cardigan and barefoot. In the pale winter sunlight, she appears to have a halo, and Banner's words weave their way into Vision's mind, his apparent impression of their relationship, and his advice to tell her. "Am I really the first awake?" she asks, and the moment passes.

"Apparently," he replies, and she smiles as she comes to stand beside him. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I drank too much last night, which I'm sure will be a common feeling this morning," she says, smiling gently, and filling a newly-washed glass with water. "How was the party for you? You disappeared at midnight, where were you?"

This would be the elusive right moment, perhaps, the right time to tell her. But something in him shrinks back at the mere thought, and instead he explains, "Outside. I didn't realise how loud the party was going to be, it was a little overwhelming."

"I hope I wasn't too obnoxious," she says, concern suddenly in her eyes, and he wants to hold her and tell her, but the words dry in his throat before he can even say them.

"It was Mr. Lang I was worried about," he says, and she laughs softly. "I believe it may have been nervousness that led to his behaviour."

"Well, that, and he let Thor persuade him to drink with him," she says, standing very close and watching him flip a pancake. "Nat at least warned me against that." She glances around the room, and truly smiles as she says, "You've down a good job down here. It doesn't look like there was any kind of party in here last night."

"Seeing their behaviour last night, I didn't think our friends would be in the correct frame of mind for cleaning this morning," he says, and she laughs, leaning on him for a moment so quick he's not sure if it was his wishful imagination. It must have been, considering her behaviour last night, and Rogers taking her to bed after they doubtlessly exchanged a kiss at midnight.

It seems even thinking of the devil makes it appear, as Rogers peers into the room, wearing thermal layers and a pair of headphones around his neck, and pours a glass of orange juice for Wanda, pressing it insistently into her hands. "How are you feeling?" he asks, such concern in his voice and expression. "You might have overdone it a little last night."

The tips of Wanda's ears have turned red with embarrassment, and her voice trembles as she says, "Probably better than I deserve to feel. Thank you for putting me to bed before I got any worse. Did I say anything embarrassing?"

"Nothing terrible, just a lot of rambling about kissing," Rogers says, and Wanda blushes, pink creeping up her neck, and ducks her head bashfully. "You did manage to talk for the entire half an hour I was finding your pyjamas and getting you water about the beauty of hugging."

"Could you just forget that it happened?" Wanda asks.

"Why would I want to do that?" Rogers says, teasing and affectionate, and puts an arm around her, catching her eyes and smiling so genuinely. "It was sweet." Holding her for a moment longer, he steps away and says, in a much different tone of voice, "I'm heading out for my run, I think I heard a couple of people stirring around me. Food smells great, Vision - maybe you can help Sam with the cooking when we go back to the compound."

With a tight smile, Vision watches Rogers leave, jealousy ringing in his ears, until he feels Wanda's gentle touch on his arm, and sees her looking up at him. "You okay?" she asks.

"Perfectly," he says, forcing down the words that want to rush to the surface. "Would you like to be the first to sample my cooking?"

"I'd be honoured," she says, and after a moment's hesitation she stretches up and kisses his cheek, ducking away immediately after. His heart skips, a familiar feeling by now whenever she is in the room, and he quickly busies himself plating the food, grateful when Clint comes into the room yawning widely and immediately beginning to complain about his hangover.

Serving breakfast to the group of overtired and variously hungover people, determinedly avoiding gazing too openly at Wanda quietly talking with Agent Hill and Sharon at the end of the table, Vision tries to compress all of his thoughts for her into a dark box at the back of his mind. He may only have been alive for eight months, but it is his understanding that he should not harbour such thoughts about another person's significant other. As Wanda is involved with Rogers, all he can do is try to get over the new feelings he has for her.

* * *

Carefully withdrawing the tray of brownies from the depths of the oven, steam curling upwards, Vision can't help the rush of pride as he sets the tray atop the stove to cool, hanging the oven gloves back on their hook and glancing at the clock to see he's timed it perfectly, with just enough time for the brownies to cool before they have to leave. Music echoes from the corridors leading to the bedrooms, most likely from Sam's room, and he turns to their TV, clicking through the channels for anything worth seeing.

Stark still leads the news across the celebrity gossip channels, benignly smiling reporters telling the world that multi-millionaire and former Avenger Tony Stark asked his girlfriend, Virginia 'Pepper' Potts, head of Stark Industries, to marry him on Valentine's Day. It's odd, to hear news of his friends from the mouths of those who don't know them personally, guessing at their personalities and experiences and minds.

"The media seem to adore them," comes a familiar voice, and he turns to Wanda walking into the room, seemingly ready for the party they've all been invited to, red skirt and black jumper, hair loose and necklace at her throat. "It's nice to see someone we know making headlines for a reason beyond their actions as an Avenger."

"They'll be happy together," Vision says, confidence in his tone, gaze on Wanda rather than the programme, eagerly taking in everything about her, revelling in the way she looks at the pictures of Stark and Pepper on the screen with such wistfulness. "She is the best thing that ever happened to him."

"That's what we all want from love," she says, glancing sideways at him and smiling sweetly. "From what I've seen of them, they support each other and let each other make mistakes. If she's been able to love and care for him for all this time, she must be perfect for him. His soulmate."

"You believe in such things?" he asks, and she turns to him with her fingers twisting through the hem of her skirt, the TV addressing the divorce proceedings of another famous couple entirely ignored behind them.

"My mother used to tell Pietro and I that our father was her soulmate, and she knew from the moment they met that he was meant for her," she says softly. "Of course, there is more than one person out there for everyone, and you could fall for anyone. But there is one person whose soul belongs with yours, and souls are stronger than bodies. Souls are where our hearts are, and our memories, and everything that makes us. I think that you truly know you love someone when you see their soul."

Her eyes are alight with happiness as she talks about love, her fidgeting fingers relaxing, her smile growing and softening her features, and his heart clenches as he gazes at her, the unrelenting steadiness of his gaze apparently unnoticed by her. She is so beautiful, speaking in soft tones of souls and hearts and the link between, and he aches to take her in his arms and tell her of the feelings he's only grown more certain of since trying to pack them away into a dark box, but he can't. Not knowing as he does that she's involved with Rogers.

In gazing so long at her, he frowns and asks, "Isn't that my jumper?" She appears to start at his words, slight colour stealing into her cheeks, wrapping her arms around herself, the cuffs of the jumper covering her fingers, too long for her arms.

"I hope you don't mind, I just pulled it out of the laundry thinking it was mine," she says, obviously a little embarrassed, and appears to make to take it off.

"Don't!" The word is a little too sharp, too loud, and she looks up at him with wide eyes. "It doesn't matter. Sam and Rogers seem to share their entire wardrobes, and Natasha has certainly appropriated her fair share of Clint's clothes. One day won't matter. And it suits you." If he could blush, he certainly would at the words that escape him unbidden, but she looks pleased, tugging slightly at the jumper.

"This was the jumper you wore the first night after Natasha and Clint took us shopping," she says softly. "Do you remember?" He nods, and she smiles, one hand toying with the stone of her necklace. "It was a lovely day."

"It was," he agrees, and she moves closer, her proximity sending his heartbeat ricocheting faster, almost painful against his ribs, and his breath seems to shorten as she smiles up at him. Her perfume is unfamiliar, a new scent, and it sends him reeling, mind spinning with everything she is.

Footsteps send her wheeling away from him, grinning at Rhodes as he enters the room, wearing a surprisingly bright ensemble, sniffing the air appreciatively. "You've got a knack Sam just doesn't have for baking, Vision," he says cheerfully, and grins at Wanda with a wink. "Looking good, kid. Is that the perfume Steve got you I smell?"

"Nat says he had her trying virtually every bottle in the store to find the perfect scent," Wanda laughs, tucking her hair behind her ear. "She'll never go shopping with him again." Glancing at the clock, she hastens to switch off the TV and moves back towards the bedrooms, shoes clattering on the floorboards, and Vision turns to the pan of brownies, cutting them into uniformly neat squares and filling a plastic tub with the finished product.

Riding in the car with the team feels riddled with tension despite the easy conversation between Sam and Rhodes filling the silence, Vision unable to keep from thinking about Wanda standing so close to him, the tension that sparked electric with their eye contact, the effect she has on him. Rogers is sat next to her, Natasha on her other side, him flipping through a thick beige file the title of which he keeps carefully concealed, and Wanda smiles at Vision across the car. He can't seem to push the fact that she's wearing his clothes from his mind, the knowledge awakening something within him, a heat that surges each time his gaze lingers on the way his jumper fits her.

Rogers appears uncharacteristically distracted, not pausing as he usually does to help Wanda or Natasha from the car. Natasha easily falls into step with Sam, laughing, and Vision offers a hand to Wanda, willing his fingers not to shake with nerves. She accepts graciously, and then Rogers turns back, walking next to her to the small apartment, Ian answering the door with a nervous smile, tranquil music echoing behind him. "Good morning, Captain Rogers," he says, words tremulous, and weakly jokes, "I hope you're not going to be flirting with Darcy!"

Sam grimaces, Rhodes moving swiftly into the apartment to hide the twitch of a smile at the corners of his mouth, and Rogers chuckles. "Trust me, there's only one person in the world I have eyes for," he says bracingly, and Ian smiles weakly, standing aside to allow them into the party. Wanda is smiling at Rogers, almost beaming, and Vision moves away quickly towards Jane, conversing in hushed tones with an older man, not wanting to be around the pair longer than necessary.

Regaled with astonishing scientific theories, almost stretching the boundaries into magic, Vision tries to keep his gaze from straying to Wanda throughout the party, always close to Darcy, talking and laughing with her. Rogers doesn't appear to be paying her much attention despite his statement to Ian, looking through his file with one hand and dialling numbers on his phone with the other, leaving the room for long minutes at a time and returning frowning a little more with every call. Finally, he stands abruptly, and says, "So sorry to leave early, Darcy, but we have a lead on a missing persons case. Sam, Natasha, with me?"

"You're sure?" Sam asks, and Rogers nods solemnly. "Alright, we better get going."

"Rhodey, when you get back to the compound make sure the cell is ready," Rogers says, and Rhodes nods, seemingly understanding what's happening where Vision is oblivious. "Wanda, Vision, I want you both out of the way. Don't follow us, and stay in the compound. No one comes in or out except myself, Natasha and Sam."

"Yes, Captain," Rhodes says, so respectful, all trace of his usual self gone, and Rogers leave with Sam and Natasha at his heels, all three with set faces and nervous eyes.

The party breaks up quickly in the wake of the trio leaving, Rhodes obviously tense even as he tries to hide it with a grin and a quip, and Wanda has gone pale with worry, moving closer to Vision with every passing moment. They leave with numerous apologies, back to the compound, and Rhodes calls Vision to help him prepare the heavily-armoured cell in their basement, meant to contain any adversary who sought them out in their home.

After hours have passed and the sky is dark, the trio who left together are yet to return, and alone in his room Vision moves quickly at the knock on his door. Wanda stands outside, still wearing his jumper but now above plaid pyjamas, and moves towards him without hesitation. "I can't sleep," she says, and his arms go around her without him telling them to move, the way she curls into him making his heart skip. "I'm too worried about them."

"They'd call for us if they'd run into trouble," he says soothingly, experimentally running a hand over her hair, marvelling at how soft it is. She's shaking so violently in his arms that he moves them over to the bed that still sits in his room despite the fact he doesn't use it, letting her sit down. "What exactly are they doing?"

She looks up at him, wide-eyed, and then comprehension seems to dawn on her face. "Of course, you don't know." She crosses her legs beneath her, and explains, "Steve and Sam have been looking for an old friend of Steve's, who was brainwashed to do HYDRA's bidding but broke his programming two years ago and has been in the wind ever since. They've chased down a lot of cold leads, but they've been following a stronger one since Christmas. It would seem they've finally found him."

Curling her knees up to her chest, she looks so young, glowing in the moonlight, and he sighs to himself, the words crying out to be said. He takes his seat at her side, and she leans against him carelessly, appearing to not even think about it, her head on his shoulder, and he has to tell her. With a deep breath, he begins, "Wanda, I-"

A crash from above interrupts him, sending all thoughts of an eloquent confession running from his mind, and she shoots to her feet, running from his room before he has even processed the next course of action. Catching up to her, he grabs her out of the way as a stranger lunges for her, dark hair flying, cybernetic arm gleaming silver in the moonlight. Sam grabs at the stranger before he can attack again, forcing his flesh arm up behind his back until he yells in pain, and Natasha jams a thick silver needle into the stranger's neck.

The man slowly slumps to the floor, the only sound the ragged breathing of everyone occupying the room, and Rhodes is the first to break the silence. "So, this is Bucky," he says, bending down to examine the bruised and bloodied face of the unconscious man. "I thought you said he'd broken his programming."

"Rumlow got to him before we did," Natasha says grimly. "He calls himself Crossbones now, he's been working with what's left of HYDRA to try and take the place of what we've destroyed. There's some kind of trigger for the winter soldier programme, Rumlow must've learned it from Pierce. The tranquilisers don't last long."

Rogers finally joins them, and Wanda's hand flies to her mouth when she sees him, bruises blooming dark around both of his eyes, blood running from a gash across his left cheekbone. "Get him to the cell," Rogers says. "We need him restrained so we can talk to him."

Wanda rushes to his side as Sam and Rhodes heave the unconscious stranger upright and take him downstairs, babbling concernedly as she finds a first aid kit and threads a needle, beginning to carefully stitch up his cuts. Turning away, Vision avoids Natasha's gaze and returns to his room, choosing to sit down on the bed and imagining what could've happened had he not been interrupted by Rogers' return.

* * *

The compound becomes a place that feels tainted, unsafe, the shadow of a man who used to be Rogers' best friend in the basement, firmly bound in the reinforced cell. Rogers forbids anyone else from seeing him, after Natasha's attempt to speak with him ends in him slamming his metal arm into the glass repeatedly until a crack appears. Their captain spends all of his time in the basement, trying to talk the weapon back into a man, letting Natasha lead them in continued assaults on Rumlow's associates and bases, reaching out to other allies to help with their search.

Still unable to work on missions in civilian areas, Vision spends entirely too much of his time in the compound, reading old case files to try and help in some small way, staying in contact with Stark and Banner and Clint and Lang in case they hear anything, manning the phones and answering near-constant queries from SHIELD operatives. He feels left in the dark, not told everything about the hunt for Rumlow, not knowing why there are shadows in their eyes of the four chasing him back and forth across the world, not told about Rogers and the weapon he insists can be made a man again in the cell below, not sharing in the world he was made to be a part of.

The compound feels empty with Wanda, Natasha, Sam and Rhodes almost constantly gone, whether that's chasing trails Rumlow leaves behind or following up smaller missions or haunting the SHIELD base to speak with Director Fury. Vision moves alone, missing Sam's jokes and Rhodes' level-headedness and Natasha's leadership and everything about Wanda, her sweet smiles for him and the way she felt when she curled up next to him and the way she lit up when she talked about love. Rogers isn't the ideal companion, not when Vision is so irrationally jealous of his relationship with Wanda, and even less so when he's worried for his friend, only appearing on the main floors of the compound to collect food and water before returning downstairs.

After almost two months of the same thing every day, alone and wandering through the compound aimlessly, training seeming futile with no one to track progress or issue instructions, Vision goes against Rogers' orders to descend into the basement, the lighting dimmer below the surface. He follows the tight turns of the corridors to the cell with its heavily reinforced walls and door, and stops in shock when he sees Rogers inside the cell, sitting next to their prisoner.

James Buchanan Barnes, as he was named before becoming a HYDRA operative, is not bound as he should be, but clothed in a clean jumper and jeans, most likely belonging to Rogers. His hair is clean and drawn back in an elastic band, and there doesn't appear to be any trace of the wild creature that first arrived at the compound. He looks close to the man Vision has seen in black and white pictures and short video clips from the war, and he and Rogers are sitting close together.

"What do you remember about me?" Rogers asks, a strange and unfamiliar quality to his voice, soft and yet strong, carrying the weight of a century of unwavering devotion.

"Your mom's name was Sarah," Barnes says, and Rogers smiles in a way Vision has never seen before, even when he's with Wanda, so dizzyingly bright. "You used to wear newspapers in your shoes. We lived together before we joined the army. You used to get pneumonia every winter, and every winter I worried myself sick that you wouldn't get better."

"C'mon, Buck, I could never have left you alone," Rogers says, a warmth to his voice, and shifts even closer, side pressed against Barnes. "What did we always say?"

"I'm with you to the end of the line," Barnes says, with a slight smile, and Rogers nods, grinning bright enough to light up the world. Vision watches, neither man noticing him, as Rogers cups a hand to Barnes' jaw, thumb moving in small circles across his cheekbone, and Barnes leans into the touch. It's Barnes who moves first, leaning in to press his lips to Rogers', and Vision expects Rogers to move away, protest, tell their prisoner that he's involved with someone else.

But he doesn't. If anything, Rogers holds Barnes tighter, kisses him more fiercely, and anger rises hotly in Vision's chest, fury reddening his vision, and he hears himself shouting, "Rogers!" before he can remove himself from the situation. Rogers moves swiftly away from Barnes, but doesn't appear remotely guilty about being caught in the act, and Barnes simply sits and looks a little shell-shocked.

"Vision," Rogers says, tone pleasant and calm, making Vision impossibly angrier. "I've asked that no one but me comes down here. Please go back upstairs and let me be alone with Bucky."

"Fuck you, Rogers!" Vision explodes, and Rogers' mouth drops open in shock, Barnes shrinking back against the wall of the cell in response. "How could you do this to her? All she does is love you with everything she has, and this is how you repay her? By kissing a HYDRA asset you're holding prisoner?"

"Bucky isn't a HYDRA asset, he's a victim of their rise to power," Rogers snaps, an edge to his voice. "He's been my best friend most of my life. I've been in love with him since I was seventeen."

"Then you've been leading her on, all this time!" Vision shouts, and Rogers simply continues to stare at him, appearing not even to care about what he's done, the bright and hopeful heart he's broken. "You pretended to like her, maybe even love her, and let her fall for you and now you'll let her be heartbroken. Why didn't you explain this all to her instead of letting it happen?"

"Vizh," Rogers says, voice soothing, and the nickname gives another jolt of fury, the name she created so he would feel more human, appropriated by the man she loves and doesn't love her one bit, "I don't know what you're talking about. Just calm down and tell me what's bothering you."

"Wanda!" Vision shouts, and Rogers still looks nonplussed. "She loves you, she's always loved you, and you're betraying her! You were together at New Year's, she lights up whenever you walk into the room, you've always been there for her, and you're throwing all of her love for you back in her face!"

Comprehension dawns slowly on Rogers' face, and he lets out a breath of a chuckle, needling once more at Vision's fury. "You think Wanda's in love with me?" he asks. "Oh, I thought we'd given you a better education on human emotions that this. Vizh, she's like a sister to me, or a daughter. And she feels the same towards me. It's completely platonic between us." Vision is silent, and Rogers stands, moving towards him and folding his arms, eyes searching his face for a betrayal of his secrets. "It was never me that made her light up when I walked into the room. It's always been someone else, since the very beginning."

"Who?" Vision asks. "Clint? Sam? Banner? Rhodes?"

Barnes shakes his head slowly, a lazy smirk curling one corner of his mouth. "Christ, Stevie, he's worse than you when we were seventeen," he says, and Rogers shoots him a look so filled with affection that it's breathtaking.

"It's been you, Vision, since we all watched you come out of that cradle," he says, and Vision's heart seems to stop completely, all the wind knocked out of him. "She was going to tell you how she felt at New Year's, but I told her not to, she was too drunk and it was just the kind of night when people say things they don't mean, and it should be more special than that. I put her to bed so she wouldn't bump into you and tell you something I wasn't sure you wanted to hear."

"Nothing like jealousy to prove love," Barnes comments.

"Where is she?" Vision asks suddenly, drawing both men's attention back to him. "I've been so stupid, all this time." He's still reeling from Rogers' explanation, the revelations continuing to come, but the one course of action that presents itself strongly is to tell Wanda, as soon as possible.

"According to the last communication I got from Nat, they're at the SHIELD base for a meeting with Fury," Rogers says, as easily as if Vision hadn't sworn and shouted at him. "After that, they're chasing a lead to Eastern Europe. You'll have to catch them before they leave."

"Thank you, Captain." Stiff with embarrassment, Vision tries to give a respectful nod, and Rogers chuckles.

"Now I know what the obstacle was to you getting along with me, the last year makes a lot more sense," he says warmly. "Please, we're a team. Call me Steve."

Vision turns on his heel and rises through the floors to the top of the compound, the wind whistling past him as he reaches speeds he's never found before, weaving through the intricacies of New York until he glimpses the small building SHIELD currently uses for a base. Fortunately, Natasha's car is still parked outside, and he hears Fury's voice from the offices at the back of the building, arguing.

Through the windows into the room, Fury pacing back and forth while talking about responsibilities and rights and risks, Vision can see Wanda, heart racing at the sight of her. He is in love with her, as she curls a strand of dark hair around her fingers, and he notices that she's paler than usual, dark shadows beneath her eyes from lack of sleep, her shirt torn and bruises darkening her wrists. Her gaze roams as Fury continues talking, and she undeniably lights up when she sees him waiting outside the window. Seeing things as he never has before, Steve's explanation seeming to have lifted a veil he was seeing the world through as an illusion, he beckons to her and watches her excuse herself, waving away the concerned looks from Sam, Natasha and Rhodes.

When she emerges from the room, self-consciously straightening her skirt, Vision takes her hand and pulls her into a quiet corner, far from occupied desks, and she looks up at him with confusion clouding her bright eyes. "Is something wrong?" she asks. "Is it Bucky? Did something go wrong with his rehabilitation?"

Thinking of the kiss, Vision says, "No, it's going well. Steve is working miracles." He puts a hand to her waist, drawing her closer, and sees the hope that blooms in her eyes, adding a new shine, and loops her hair behind her ear, gaze flickering to her lips, feeling her shaking and the warmth of her breath on his face. "I'm here for you."

Perhaps he unconsciously mimics the behaviour he's seen from people such as Clint with Natasha, or Steve with Barnes, tracing the line of her cheekbone with his thumb, seeing her eyelids flutter and a blush steal into her cheeks. "Vizh, what are you doing?" she asks softly, her words trembling with anticipation.

"Something I should've done months ago," he says, and lowers his head to kiss her. There's an enchanting enthusiasm to her response, her arms thrown around his neck as she rises up on her toes to press closer, returning the kiss with overwhelming passion. He breaks away first, gasping for air, heart pounding so fast it seems unhealthy, and looks down at her darkened eyes and flushed cheeks, chest heaving, and absolutely radiant.

"God, I've wanted to do that for _so long_ ," she breathes, and leans back in for another kiss, hands cupping his face, his arms wrapping tighter around her waist to pull her against him.

A wolf-whistle sends her reeling back, and he glances around to see Sam, Natasha and Rhodes watching them, all smirking wickedly. "About time, guys, Jesus!" Sam declares dramatically. "I was thinking we'd have to lock you both in a room to get you to talk it out."

"Oh, is that what we're calling it now?" Rhodes quips, and Sam lets out a bark of laughter, and Wanda blushes so prettily, ducking her head into Vision's chest. "I wish that was what talking it out looked like."

"I have to explain," Vision says softly, and Wanda looks up at him, adoration clear in every inch of her face, a halo of happiness around her. "I thought that you were involved with Steve, or at least had feelings for him. I've harboured feelings for you since I first saw you when I emerged from the cradle, and I should've told you much earlier than this."

"Steve's a father figure," Wanda says dismissively, her arms around him, gaze never leaving his. "I love you."

That has Vision's breath caught in his throat, but he can see she means every word, so honest and in his arms, in love with _him_ , and he murmurs, "I love you too," and kisses her again, to laughter from their trio of teammates.

She hooks her leg around the back of his, pulling them even closer together, and Rhodes wolf-whistles shrilly, and Natasha is laughing. "Don't either of you need to come up for air?" she teases, and Vision feels Wanda smile against his mouth, pulling her closer in response, unwilling to ever let her go.


End file.
